


Pain Play

by Jemzamia



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:30:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemzamia/pseuds/Jemzamia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sylar finds another way to have his twisted fun with Peter. </p><p>Warning: Blood, restraint.</p><p>Written in 2009 and imported from my Livejournal</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pain Play

Since absorbing Claire's power, Peter had experienced it's downsides that balanced out its advantages in a karmic fashion. For example; whenever a certain psychopathic serial killer thought it would be fun to either by throw him off the top of a school building or embed a large, glass shard into the back of his head, it always agonizingly dragged Peter back from the edge of death. The pain it caused aside, Peter was always thankful for all the second chances at life it gave him, enabling him to carry on trying to save the world. But when said psychopathic serial killer eventually got the message and thought of a new way of having his twisted fun with him, Peter really wished he could die.

Lacerations adorned his chest like a scatter of bloody, decorative ribbons, all rich-red in colour and glistening under the surgical light. Leather binds firmly pinned him down to the metal cot, making all his struggles to escape pointless and strenuous. Breathing was a strive in itself as Sylar was sat on Peter's abdomen, pushing his entire weight down, feeling the diaphragm jolt with each gasp against his thighs. Sylar grinned with delight, enjoying his new found form of torture, especially created for Peter, drawing out each second with agonizing precision. Another cut made Peter groan and writhe, the restraints causing him to make more noises of frustration and pain, like a wild animal caged.

Peter wanted to be closer, that extra millimetre closer to Sylar's body where he could gain just the right amount of friction right where he needed it. His futile attempts made Sylar chuckle as he leaned forward to hover over Peter's face, watching it grimace at the loss of the minuscule amount of contact his cock once had with Sylar's arse.   
"You're an evil bastard," Peter said through gritted teeth,  
"Maybe," said Sylar calmly, which annoyed Peter further, "But by the looks of things I'd say you enjoy it. A lot."  
There was a moment's silence where they glared into each other's eyes, each second wearing down Peter's stubbornness. After ten, his head bolted up, their lips clashing together fiercely and ferociously, their bodies soon pressed together once again. 

Peter didn't want to die because of the ongoing pain. He wanted to die because Sylar had discovered that he loves being someone's bitch.


End file.
